


Let the Dream Descend

by SailorSol



Series: Lovely, Dark and Deep [1]
Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Dark, Dark Seduction, Eventual Offscreen Pairing, Fear, Isolation, Loneliness, M/M, Mind Games, Post-Movie, Present Tense, Shadows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSol/pseuds/SailorSol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Past all thought of “if” or “when” </em>
  <br/>
  <em>No use resisting</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Abandon thought and let the dream descend </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>What raging FIRE shall flood the soul </em><br/><em>What rich desire unlocks it's door</em><br/><em>What sweet seduction lies before us?</em><br/>--”Past the Point of No Return”, Phantom of the Opera</p><p>Things don't change much for Jack, after Pitch's defeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Dream Descend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boywonder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boywonder/gifts).



> This was my first foray into writing this fandom. I hope I did it justice!
> 
> Thanks to H. for the beta and encouragement.

The first time it happens, Jack writes it off as his overactive imagination. After all, he and the Guardians defeated Pitch.

But the shadows had felt thicker, the way they had in Pitch’s lair, and Jack could have sworn he heard his name whispered from the darkness. The soft caress down his cheek was nothing more than the wind, teasing him as it often did.

If he avoided the shadows for a few days after that, well, that was because he was busy doing his job bringing snow days and laughter.

* * *

The Man in the Moon had named him a Guardian, but things didn’t change overnight. Not even having his first set of believers changed things much, at first. There were still more children who didn’t believe, who couldn’t see him, and being walked through still hurt just as much as it had for the last three hundred years.

The other Guardians didn’t quite understand Jack’s problem. But they had known each other for so long that their bonds of friendship were easy ones. Jack was still trying to figure out how he fit with them.

More often than not, he felt that he just didn’t. The four of them were so busy with their appointed tasks that there was little time for Jack. Having people who claimed to be his friends but never made the effort to seek him out left Jack feeling even lonelier than he had before he’d become a Guardian.

* * *

Maybe that’s why, the second time, Jack doesn’t run away.

He lingers in the shadows, waiting for the moment when he can almost feel them pressing against him, threatening to swallow him.

He feels a thrill of fear, remembering falling through darkness and Pitch’s laughter echoing off cavernous ceilings.

“I know you’re there,” he tells the shadows, though he’s only guessing. He thinks he’s not wrong, though there’s no response other than the twist of black in the corner of his vision.

He’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when the oppressive pressure drops away, leaving him alone in the shadow of a building.

* * *

He should tell the others. He knows he should. But Jack has spent so long keeping his own counsel that talking about his concerns just feels like attention-seeking. He’s past that point; he doesn’t need to try sneaking past Phil to get into North’s workshop any more than he needs to freeze Bunny’s eggs on Easter.

Besides, Pitch isn’t hurting anyone. And Jack’s not even sure it _is_ Pitch. There haven’t been any signs of his Nightmares corrupting Sandy’s dreams. The children in Burgess haven’t mentioned the Boogie Man in months.

“A little fear isn’t a bad thing, you know,” Jack says to the patch of darkness to his left. It’s not much, a rectangle cast by an old chimney, but it’s enough.

Probably.

“Fear keeps us safe sometimes,” he continues. “Stops us from doing things that are too dangerous.”

He ignores the little voice in his head that sounds too much like Tooth, scolding him for taking this particular risk and ignoring his own words.

He’s afraid, of course; Pitch nearly destroyed the Guardians, less than a year ago. But Pitch is the one paying attention to Jack right now, seeking him out without a need for pretense. Jack shifts closer to the shadow.

“And sometimes,” Jack says, keeping his voice as steady as possible, “the fear of loneliness draws people together.”

He’s not entirely certain that the laughter isn’t real.

* * *

“Fear’s a strange thing.”

He’s been spending more time in the shadows, lately. He tells himself it’s because more and more children are starting to believe in him, and the Guardians aren’t supposed to be seen. Funny how that works; he spent three hundred years trying to get someone, anyone to notice him, and now when they _can_ , he’s supposed to do his best to avoid it.

“The Guardians, we’re all afraid of the same thing. Of being alone. Forgotten. But the others, they don’t understand that fear the way you and I do.”

He’s not sure when he decided to keep this constant monologue, but Jack hates silence. He’s used to having one-sided conversations, though these feel less one-sided than talking to children who couldn’t see him.

“Funny how you, the King of Nightmares himself, can be afraid, just like the rest of us.”

The thought makes Jack feel sorry for Pitch. Only a little, because Pitch made his choices, too. Even with the Guardians doing their best to counter the fear he spread, the Boogie Man still had believers. But Pitch had wanted more.

There is a moment where Jack feels like he’s drowning again, icy water pressing down on him and into his lungs. The feeling passes quickly, leaving him panting and on the verge of panic. He knows, then, that Pitch really is lurking nearby, has been listening to everything Jack’s been saying.

Jack smirks, content in the knowledge that he was right.

* * *

“You should visit more,” North tells Jack.

Jack shrugs, trailing ice across the banister of North’s workshop. He ignores Phil’s mutterings as the ivy frosts over and icicles form on the holly berries. “Christmas is coming. I wouldn’t want to distract you.”

“Nonsense!” North booms, but a moment later, his attention is focused on pulling a trio of elves out of a bucket of paint. “Bah, ever since Dingle helped with Easter, all the elves want to be colored too!”

Jack chuckles. The elves aren’t very bright, but they’re amusing. They cause enough trouble for North, though, which means there’s not much for Jack to do other than watch the yetis making toys in a mad rush to be ready for Christmas the following month. He should have known better than to come this time of year, but North had sent an invitation, and Jack hadn’t wanted to seem rude. The older man probably hadn’t even thought what a terrible host he’d be.

Jack considers going to the Warren, but Bunny always gets cranky around North’s holiday. Tooth and Sandy are always busy, gathering teeth and ensuring sweet dreams around the world. Burgess is due for its first snowstorm of the year, and Jack hasn’t seen Jamie in ages. North doesn’t even notice when Jack lets himself out, the wind carrying him away and to the south.

He doesn’t make it farther than the woods outside town. Jack had honestly been looking forward to spending some time with North. It makes him angry, suddenly, and he kicks at a tree stump. The stump freezes into a solid block of ice, reflecting sunlight back into his eyes.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he snarls, pacing around the clearing. “He’s busy. Of course he’s busy! I shouldn’t have bothered him in the first place.”

The woods are silent. Clouds start to gather overhead, blocking out the sun, blurring the lines between shadows and light.

“At least I have believers!” he shouts. It’s meant to be scathing, but even he can hear the desperation in his words, the fear that maybe it’s not enough.

When he gets no response, he unleashes his powers, dumping two feet of snow on the unsuspecting town. He doesn’t stick around to play with the kids on their snow day.

* * *

He avoids the shadows again, after that. Sticks to his duties as the Spirit of Winter and the Guardian of Fun. Christmas comes and goes, and Easter looms on the horizon. After the previous year’s disaster, Jack doesn’t dare cause trouble for Bunny.

Sandy corners Jack one night in the middle of March. He asks in pantomimes of golden sand why Jack has been avoiding everyone.

Jack offers him a tight smile. “I figured after the mess I made of things last year, it would be best if I kept my head down.”

It’s not a complete lie, but it’s also not completely the truth. Jack hasn’t been avoiding anyone, but he hasn’t been making an effort to visit, either. It only took three and a half months for someone to notice.

Sandy says something that Jack thinks means it wasn’t his fault. Sandy might believe that, but Jack isn’t sure the others don’t. He’d been hoping Bunny would invite them all to help paint eggs again this year, but so far, there’s been nothing. “It’s okay,” he tells Sandy, even though it isn’t. “I’ve got to squeeze in another snow day in Colorado before the Kangaroo can have his fun.”

He must sound convincing enough, because Sandy goes back to his rounds, leaving Jack alone in the moonlight. He realizes with a start just how alone he actually is; the shadows are completely empty.

“I don’t need you any more than I need the rest of them anyway,” he says. He’s not sure if he’s angrier with Pitch for not being there, or with himself for expecting him to be. He throws himself into the wind and heads west.

* * *

The shadows stay empty.

* * *

He tells himself it doesn’t matter. Pitch is evil, anyway, and Jack shouldn’t have been looking to him for company.

He doesn’t seek out the shadows, but when he finds himself in one, he still expects Pitch to be there, waiting. His anger at finding them empty starts turning to desperation as winter settles into the southern hemisphere. He hasn’t even seen Baby Tooth since just after Easter.

He tumbles to a stop on an icy crag in the middle of Antarctica, the wind howling around him. The sun is just barely peeking over the edge of the horizon, nearly set for the long winter twilight. Snow drifts cut long shadows across the barren whiteness like knives. He clutches his staff close; he hasn’t been back here since Pitch had broken it, and Jack can still remember the pain and terror it had caused.

“Why?” he yells, his voice carrying away. If Pitch is nearby, it won’t matter; he’ll be able to hear Jack. “I thought you, of all people, would understand!”

The shadows don’t move. Something inside Jack twists. He drops to his knees, hunching into himself. It’s hard to remember in this place that the Guardians had won against Pitch, that Jack had children who believed in him and could see him.

“Are you leaving me alone too?” he asks, and that’s when the fear engulfs him.

What if Jamie and the others stop believing in him? What if no more children learn to see him? What if the other Guardians stop talking to Jack? What if things go back to exactly how they were before Manny chose him as a Guardian?

“I can’t live like that again,” he sobs.

A grey hand tilts his chin up, forcing Jack to look into golden eyes the color of Sandy’s dreamsand. “Hello, Jack,” Pitch says, real and solid and right in front of Jack, the first person to acknowledge him in months. “Are you ready to join me now?”

Jack lets himself fall into the shadows.

 


End file.
